The systematic return to childhood landscapes is memory and contemplation. To go through distances just to shed the burden of the formulas of city living, properly dressed and organized in the chaos of its hypocritical and infallibly correct narratives. It’s a triumphant and transitory liberty of erratic wandering, imagining and forgetting things left behind, that I detachedly abandoned. I come back to rewatch a restored copy of a film that premiered decades ago, populated with images that are long rooted in the memory. Observing time, I dream the verses on film and, within the brief moments that light concedes me, I immortalize the principle of that living, and I keep indolent: “dreaming verses and smiling in italics”, as in the poem by Álvaro de Campos.